


Feels So Good When It Just Comes Natural

by leere



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, sigh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-24
Updated: 2015-07-24
Packaged: 2018-04-10 02:16:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4373366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leere/pseuds/leere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's fine with the Patrick he's got back at home, he really is, but this Patrick - he's so confident and skinny and hot, holy shit, he's <i>hot</i>. Well, okay, in all honesty, the blonde hair looks sort of ridiculous, but Pete's totally digging it anyway.<br/>or<br/>I made a deal with @vandaystrick on Tumblr and this was the result. I should probably say that it's 2011!Patrick x 2007!Pete. Because that's what Liberty wanted. I just want my fan art, man. But hey, porn is porn, so I hope everyone enjoys.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feels So Good When It Just Comes Natural

**Author's Note:**

> On a serious note, there's a bunch of references to Patrick's weight loss in this, so be aware that that's in here. Also I got lazy and I didn't even attempt a backstory, this is just straight up PWP. The end's fluff though. Let's pretend there's some explanation to how Pete got there. Finally, title from Arch & Point by Miguel. Miguel's my new go-to artist to listen to when I write porn. Good shit, mmm hmm, good shit.

"The fuck is this," Pete huffs, yanking at the buttons of Patrick's suit, aggressive in his rush to get Patrick naked. "What the fuck are you wearing?"

Patrick swats at his hands, scowling. "Ruin my suit and you're paying for it, dickwad. This was expensive. Let me do it."

Pete sits back on his heels and watches Patrick unbutton and shrug his jacket off. He'd laugh at how he's struggling to sit upright when Pete's pretty much on top of him, but he's trying to keep his serious face on, because Patrick tends to get mad when he's laughed at in bed, and Pete's not about to get cock blocked by his own immaturity.

Patrick gently lays his jacket on the bed beside them, and Pete rolls his eyes and says, "Hurry up, just throw it all on the floor," not even attempting to hide his impatience.

"It'll get wrinkled," Patrick says, scoffing at him and pulling at his tie. Pete just rolls his eyes.

It comes off, followed by his belt once Pete's scooted off where he was perched on Patrick's thighs, and then Pete says, "Okay, I'll take it from here."

"You sure?" Patrick gets the button on his dress slacks undone, then looks up at Pete, waiting for him to do the rest.

"Yeah," Pete says, tugging at Patrick's zipper with clumsy fingers. He pulls at the pants until they're off and Patrick's lying on the bed in nothing but his plain white button up shirt and his underwear. Pete puts his finger under the elastic waist band of his briefs and lets it snap back against Patrick's skin. "What, no panties?"

"Wasn't in a lacy mood tonight. Maybe another time," Patrick says, rolling his eyes but tilting his hips up anyway. "C'mon, take 'em off."

"Want me to blow you?" Pete asks, ignoring Patrick's order and instead going for the shirt and undoing the buttons that are still done up. Patrick's about to be completely naked, and Pete's still fully clothed. It makes him feel a little crazy in his head, and he's not sure if it's because he's got a laid out, soon-to-be naked Patrick beneath him, or if it's because his hard dick is painfully compressed in his girl jeans. Possibly both.

Once Patrick's shirtless, Pete sits back to admire him. He's lost a ton of weight, compared to the Patrick he's used to, and Pete would take any Patrick, chubby or skinny, but he's kind of really fucking turned on by what a twink Patrick is now. He presses his fingers into Patrick's stomach, and there's a tiny bit of give, he's still got a little chub around his middle - thank God, too; Pete wouldn't be able to handle Patrick if he was as skinny as, say, Ryan Ross or Mikey Way or someone, that would feel ridiculously unnatural and he doesn't think he could handle that on Patrick - but he's thinner than he's been in all the time Pete's known him, and he seems smaller, too, his shoulders don't seem as broad as they were years ago.

"You're okay, right?" he finds himself asking, trailing his fingers slowly along Patrick's ribs. He can feel every one; they're even protruding a little. "This isn't - you're-"

"I'm better than I've been in a long time," Patrick tells him, reaching down to lay a hand over Pete's. Pete looks up and Patrick's looking into his eyes, looking a little sad. "Pete, don't worry about me. You can freak out over the weight thing another time, although it's really not a big deal. Right now I want you to touch me."

"I can do that," Pete says, letting his hands move up until he's brushing Patrick's nipples with his thumbs. "Like this?"

"Like that, yeah." Patrick makes a soft sound when Pete pinches a nipple, and when he bends to bite down on it, Patrick's hips buck. Pete turns his attention to the other bud, enjoying the way he can feel Patrick's cock getting harder. It's pressed against his clothed thigh; it'd be hard not to feel it.

"I totally wanna fuck you," he says, pressing his hands to Patrick's stomach. His Patrick would flinch and shove him away, maybe snap at him; this one smiles and reaches down to comb his fingers through Pete's hair. "I love the you I know, but this you is, like, a total twink, it's fucking great."

"Then do it," Patrick says, lifting both his hips and his head and licking his lips, peering down at Pete through hooded eyes. "C'mon, spit's fine for a minute. Lube's in my bag, by the door."

Pete grins, leaning over Patrick to push his fingers into his mouth; Patrick's eager, sucking hard, swirling his tongue around them like it's a cock. "You're so enthusiastic now. When you lost the weight you lost the insecurity too, huh?"

Patrick doesn't answer him immediately; his mouth's a little busy. Pete pulls his fingers out, eyeing the slight spit trail between Patrick's mouth and them, before he's moving them down, rubbing at where he needs to be.

Patrick shifts a little and presses his lips together. "The insecurity's not gone, I just kind of pushed it in the back of my mind. Hurry the hell up."

"Still so bossy," Pete grins, but he complies, one finger pushing in. Patrick hisses, his body twisting; it probably stings. Pete frowns at him. "When's the last time you did this?"

 _When you and I broke up,_ is the truth, but Patrick just says, "It's been a while. Go get the lube, it hurts."

"Okay," Pete nods, getting up and going to Patrick's bag. He digs around for a while, finds clothes and a few CDs and some underwear (he's pretty sure his callused fingers catch on the silk of a pair of panties underneath some boxer briefs, and he briefly freezes, but before he can look, Patrick's saying, "Did you find it?" and he's quickly answering, "Almost, sorry, yeah." and feeling around again) before he finally fishes out the lube, and a strip of condoms, too. "Condom?"

"Yeah," Patrick says, and Pete goes to him again, getting positioned between his spread legs once more. When he's twisting the cap off the lube without thinking, focusing on the round curve of Patrick's ass - he's got his legs open, one bent and the other straight, and it's a surprisingly slutty for Patrick but Pete's sure as hell not against it - he gets a different idea.

"Can I eat you out?" Pete asks, sliding his body down until he's eye level with Patrick's dick and leaning in to nip at the inside of Patrick's thigh. "I really, really want to."

"Fucking do it," Patrick says, his head falling back against the pillow.

Pete grins, his hands moving to curl around Patrick's cock. He gives it a couple of rough jerks and leans in to lap at the pre-come, tongue curling around the head. Patrick thrusts up, barely, his fingers tangling in Pete's hair.

"I flat ironed this, like, four hours ago, don't fuck it up already," Pete says, reaching up to move Patrick's hand. "Grab your own hair or something."

Patrick pouts a little, but he shoves his hand under his back, for lack of anything better to do with it. He moves it again seconds later to grab at the sheets when Pete's suddenly bracing his thighs apart and pressing his tongue to his entrance, not licking at it, just applying pressure.

"Come on," Patrick grits out, pushing himself down against Pete's mouth, his head thrown back and his pale, sweaty neck exposed. Pete squeezes his thighs in his hands; they're still the same, pale and thick, but not nearly as thick as he's used to. This whole experience feels weird, like he's cheating, except he's not, it's still Patrick, just a funky blonde twink instead of the chubby ginger firecracker he's used to. "Pete," Patrick says, his voice half an octave higher, " _please_."

"Mmm," Pete hums, and one of Patrick's leg slips when he arches his back, and his calf bumps into Pete's head but Pete ignores it. He briefly pulls away to say, "Stay still," trying for stern but just managing to sound a little amused, and then he leans in to try and work his tongue in.

Patrick exhales out loud, hips working against Pete's mouth when he curls his tongue inside. His breathing's picked up now, loud panting with the occasional gasped out " _shit_ " or "Pete, fuck".

Pete keeps Patrick like that for a while, teases him by alternating between slow, languid licks and faster, rougher ones. He pulls back to bite at the swell of Patrick's ass cheek once or twice, just because it makes Patrick briefly tense in pain, and then he's going back to his hole, occasionally trilling like he's rolling an 'r'. Doing that makes Patrick moan a little louder than just licking him does, and Pete fucking loves it.

He pulls back and wraps his hand around Patrick's cock, sucks briefly at the head, lips sealed around it, and then he sits back and slicks his fingers up quickly.

Patrick exhales out loud when Pete pushes his lubed up finger into him and twists it, curls it up until Patrick's arching.

"Better?" Pete says, licking a long stripe up the length of Patrick's dick.

"Yeah," Patrick says, before he chokes on a moan, thrusting up into the slick hand Pete's suddenly got wrapped around him. "Yeah, real good."

Pete keeps him on edge by avoiding his prostate and then pressing against it hard until Patrick's whimpering, then going back to stretching and scissoring his fingers, sneaking his tongue in between them occasionally - the process repeats, and one finger becomes three, until Patrick finally says, "C'mon, Pete, _please_." 

Pete listens for once, his fingers slipping out of Patrick's body, and then he's sitting back to get his shirt and pants off, finally, and then he's crawling up, going for a kiss and laughing when Patrick says, "You're sick, no." Pete pouts at him, but he's happy, and he fits himself between Patrick's thighs and slicks his cock up and guides it into him, slow, centimeter by centimeter until Patrick's hooking a leg around his back and saying, "Pete, you fucking dick, _come on_."

Pete just hums, pushing all the way inside, and Patrick gasps, mouth open, lips wet. Pete leans in and bites at Patrick's bottom lip, giving a harsh thrust of his hips - Patrick tilts his head back, letting out soft little noises, and Pete gives him one more kiss before moving from his lips to his neck, sucking hard as he finds his rhythm.

"Fucking tight," he murmurs, running his hands up and down Patrick's thighs before pushing them up. "Fucking perfect," he says, licking at the decent sized mark he's made on Patrick's neck.

Patrick's never been talkative in bed, but right now he's louder than he usually is, all moans and sighs. He's skinny, but the position makes his round little tummy poke out a little. Pete's grateful for that, because it's something familiar in this stranger of his boyfriend, and he can also see how hard he's breathing, his stomach rising and falling quickly as he pants. Patrick starts moving back against him, moves his hands from where they're fisted in the sheet and wraps them around the headboard instead, so he can work his hips back against Pete's dick. Pete's pretty sure he's enjoying this, if his moans are anything to go by, but he can't help but notice the way Patrick's lips are trembling when he leans in to kiss him.

"You okay?" Pete asks, because Patrick doesn't seem right and he's not going to keep fucking him if he's having a panic attack or something.

"Overwhelmed," Patrick says, his mouth twisting to the side. He rolls his hips down against Pete's cock and his eyes clench shut, and when he talks, he sounds choked. "Please continue."

"No, seriously, are you okay?" Pete reaches down, grabbing at Patrick's hip to stop him.

Patrick opens his eyes and glares, then closes them again and takes a deep breath. When he blows it out, Pete can feel it against his jaw. "I haven't done this for a while, okay, and it's you, and you're from the past, and it's weird, okay? Could you get back to fucking me before I actually freak out and we have to stop? Please?"

Pete looks down at him, cynical, and Patrick huffs and pushes at Pete's chest until Pete pulls out. "Hey," he says, frowning, because if Patrick's seriously not going to let him finish--

"Lay down, I wanna ride you." Patrick's mumbling a little, like he's embarrassed, but he's biting at his bottom lip, pupils big with his lust. Pete nods eagerly and rolls over, onto his back. Patrick instantly throws a leg over him and gets on top, putting his hands on either side of Pete's head and looking down at him. Pete reaches up to boop Patrick on the nose, and Patrick wrinkles it, then smiles a little, and Pete totally sure he'd love him no matter what or who he was - fat or thin, blonde or that weird red/brown color he naturally has, suits or hoodies. The cute moment's ruined when Patrick sits back on Pete's thighs. He gives Pete's condom covered dick a few strokes, squints at it like he's contemplating it and Pete wants to laugh, but then he's lifting up and guiding himself down onto it, groaning a little as he slides all the way down. Patrick stays like that, panting, his mouth open and his lips pink, looking down, delicate eyelashes against not-so-round cheeks, and Pete reaches to slide his hands up Patrick's sides, and Patrick's eyes meet his and he smirks a little. His hair's a mess, he's covered in a thin layer of sweat, and he's flushed pink all over, but somehow Pete's never seen anything hotter. He's fine with the Patrick he's got back at home, he really is, but this Patrick - he's so confident and skinny and hot, holy shit, he's _hot_. Well, okay, in all honestly, the blonde hair looks sort of ridiculous, but Pete's totally digging it anyway. Pete's hands find themselves on Patrick's waist when Patrick starts moving.

"Yeah?" Patrick whispers, rolling his hips, fucking himself on Pete's cock - Pete's hands flex on his hips, slide back to grab his ass, move up his back and down again. Patrick's locks eyes with Pete, aware of how good he looks, aware that he's getting louder as he gets closer, aware that he's putting on a show - aware that Pete's fucking eating it up. Pete presses his thumbs into Patrick's hips, his vision getting a little fuzzy - his mouth feels a bit dry too. He licks his lips and focuses on Patrick's mouth, how it's open and he's moaning, one of his hands braced on Pete's chest, the other sliding down his own until it finally curls around his cock. He meets Pete's eyes as he brings himself off, moaning and going rigid, and Pete tries not to buck up but Patrick's tight around him and he really, really wants to fuck him until he comes.

He watches Patrick breathe hard for a minute, watches how his tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip. Then Patrick's smiling, giggling a little, leaning over until he's holding himself over Pete, and grinning down at him. He sticks his tongue out, and Pete sticks his own out back at him, then says, "Do I get to come or are you gonna be a little bitch?" 

Patrick purses his lips and sits back, so he's entirely on Pete's dick, and Pete grits his teeth and shudders, he's so fucking close. Patrick taps his chin thoughtfully, like he's considering that. Then he carefully lifts up, so the head of Pete's cock is the only thing inside him. He's biting his lip, and his eyes are smiling - he's never been this playful in bed, and it'd be cute, but Pete's getting pissy. 

"Patrick," he says sharply, trying not to sound like he's pleading.

"You wanna come?" Patrick says softly, slowly settling down on top of Pete's dick again, until Pete's in deep, and staying like that. He winces before he's smiling again, and his thighs are shaking, so Pete's pretty sure he's oversensitive and he's just doing this for Pete's benefit, but he's not really digging this and he says so. Patrick frowns. "What if I blow you? You want that, want me to swallow you down? I'll let you come in my mouth, and I'll swallow like a good boy."

The Patrick Pete's used to tends to hate come getting on or inside any part of his body, he's really strict about that, so Pete's halfway tempted to take him up on that offer, but he's also dead set on finishing up inside him. "Wanna come in your ass," he says, bucking his hips up.

"Gonna fill me up?" Patrick murmurs, leaning in to whisper in Pete's ear. His lips slide down to his neck, and he bites lightly, rolling his hips, and that's all he can handle - Pete comes harder than he has in a long time. "That's it," Patrick whispers, and once Pete's done, he's lifting off him, dealing with the condom and patting Pete's heaving stomach before he's lying down beside him, cuddling up close to him after he's wiped his stomach off with some tissues by the hotel staff's set on the nightstand.

"Who's the next president?" Pete says, but he's actually tired for once, and he can barely keep his eyes open. He hopes he doesn't fall asleep before Patrick answers him - he's genuinely curious.

"I can't say," Patrick says.

"Tell me who wins The Super Bowl so I can bet on it and wins lots of money." When Patrick glares at him, vaguely looking like a grumpy but sleepy, sated cat, Pete frowns. "I will use that money to buy you all the lame, geeky music equipment you could want."

"I've got plenty of lame and geeky music equipment already, Pete, I don't need anymore."

Pete closes his eyes and hums. "You're never happy. I'll do something for me then." Pete thinks back to the panties he might have found in Patrick's bag, and he says, "You know what, I think I might buy you fancy lingerie. So you'll look pretty. You'd look good in eyeliner, too, remind me to bring that up during sex sometime so you'll tell me yes."

"I'm not pretty already?" Patrick's dozing off, too - his sleepy voice is absolutely adorable, Pete almost forgot. "What, is panties and makeup what it takes for you to consider me pretty?"

"If makeup makes a guy pretty, then I'm fucking gorgeous," Pete muses. Patrick doesn't answer, and Pete opens his eyes and glances down - he's asleep, golden eyelashes against pale skin and soft breath against Pete's chest. Pete watches him for a while, because he's sure once he falls asleep he'll go back to where he's from, and he's not sure if he wants that. But eventually his eyelids get heavy and he can't help it, he falls asleep to Patrick's rhythmic breathing.

He wakes up to three pairs of blue eyes staring down at him.

"He's alive!" Joe crows, throwing his arms up in the air.

"Thank fucking God," Patrick says, tugging Pete up from his laying position and pulling him into a hug. When he pulls away, he can feel the coarse hair of one of Patrick's sideburns against his cheek. He's back. Patrick kisses him chastely, then narrows his eyes and looks him up and down. "What the hell did you take? You wouldn't wake up, I was getting scared."

Pete shrugs and pushes Patrick's trucker hat up until his reddish hair is visible; Patrick automatically shoves it down over his head, glaring and crossing his arms over his hoodie-covered chest, and Pete smiles and tries not to miss the fluffy peroxide 'do and the fancy suits. 

Twenty minutes later, while he's shoveling ramen into his mouth despite how hot it is because he's suddenly fucking starving, Patrick leans into him, his head on his shoulder. Pete glances down, and Patrick looks up at him, peering over his black rimmed glasses. "What?" Pete asks through his mouthful.

"I don't know," Patrick answers.

"Okay," Pete says, taking another bite of steaming ramen and then fanning his mouth, as if that would do anything. He spits it back into his bowl and says, "Hot," and Patrick wrinkles his nose at him. Pete looks down and says, "Patrick Stump."

"Pete Wentz," Patrick replies.

"Patrick Stump, I have something to ask you."

"If you want me to marry you, I'm gonna say no, Pete, like I have every other time you've asked me that."

"No, I - okay, rude. But I was gonna ask if you'd wear lingerie for me." Patrick's face screws up, and Pete quickly adds, "Like, panties or something, I don't know."

"What the hell? No." Patrick's looking around, wary, like he's worried someone's listening in to their conversation.

"How about makeup?"

"No."

"A little eyeliner?"

Patrick doesn't even answer him.

Two weeks later they do a photo shoot for some magazine. Patrick wears eyeliner for it. Afterwards, Pete tells everyone on the bus that his dick is so magical that if he threatened to cut off sex if he didn't, he could probably convince Patrick to "like, murder, uh, orphans, or something". Patrick just closes his eyes and rubs his temples, says, "Pete, stop it." Pete just grins, fingers idly playing with the hair that visible below his hat.

"You should dye this blonde," he says.

"No," Patrick tells him, without even looking up from his laptop.

"Think of the orphans, Patrick," Pete says, laying down so his head's in Patrick's lap.

Patrick ignores him. Pete doesn't mind for once. Mostly because he's busy imagining how good Patrick's ass would look in panties.


End file.
